


A collection of works

by LB98



Category: Clarke Griffin/Lexa - Fandom, The 100, clexa - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 03:01:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15698790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LB98/pseuds/LB98
Summary: I know it’s been forever since I have updated my mafia Au so I decided to post some of the drabbles and one shots I wrote on tumblr (clexa-mafia.tumblr.com) on here.





	1. Money Honey

**Author's Note:**

> @marcingestesmemes sent me this prompt today: “You asked for a prompt, so here’s my idea. In most of the fanfics, clexa is always on a superior social status. Whether in terms of money or power. Some of them have Clarke, but not enough. For this prompt, they are on equal footing. Clarke is new money rich, dad is a successful engineer/entrepreneur, mom runs a hospital. Lexa is old money rich, I’m talking Rockefeller type. Finger in a lot of pies type of wealth. The rest is up to you.”

Boring. That’s how these events usually were. Every year was the same. All of D.C.’s wealthiest families gathered together in the same posh building to spend one night together bragging about just how wealthy they were. The whole night was full of nothing but entitled, ultra-wealthy people, bosting about how much money they made that year or which ivy league school they bought their child’s way into. Old money or new money, it didn’t matter as long as you had it. And Clarke Griffin had it.

The 22-year-old was the sole heiress to her parent’s fortune. Jacob Griffin had made his money in engineering. The MIT Alum had formed his own company with close friends shortly after graduating from the prestigious university. In no time, the business had exploded. Griffin Tech Co. was now one of the largest engineering companies in the world. From cars to gadgets, to buildings, they were the go-to party. In fact, Griffin Tech Co. had constructed this very hotel that hosted these annual galas; a tragically ironic fact.

But, it is to be said that Clarke’s father isn’t the only breadwinner in the family. Her mother, Abigail, graduated at the top of her class from Johns Hopkins and is now the Chief of Surgery at one of D.C.’s most renowned hospitals – Griffin Memorial. Abby practically lived at the hospital. She lived and breathed surgeries. Clarke had spent so much of her childhood in the halls of that hospital that for the longest time she thought her name was code blue. Clarke had always admired her mother’s commitment to the job. To feel so inspired to do the very best every single day, to save lives and give the unfortunate a second chance was extremely admirable. Her mom was a hero to many including Clarke.

But Clarke, unlike her parents, saw herself as nothing more than average. She didn’t attend an ivy league school like her parents did. She attended a liberal arts school and she got average grades and had average friends and an average social life. That was the way she liked living. Although she had been groomed from the time she was a baby up until she sent off her last college application to be a doctor, that wasn’t what she wanted. When she had told her parents she wanted to be an artist they were less than enthused. Both STEM majors had taken their time explaining why they thought Clarke should reconsider. A combination of you’ll never be able to use that degree and honey, don’t you know that artists don’t make any money these days, had been tossed her way on more than one occasion. But, it had been her dream from the time she was a little girl drawing, pictures for the patients on her mom’s floor, to be an artist.

Perhaps, that’s why her parents dragged her to this ungodly event. To show her what she’s missing out on – which was nothing more than watching Chad from Kappa Delta talk about how many beers he could chug before puking while Amber from her old high school raves about how she and Gregory are expecting yet another baby and what a gift from God that is. If it wasn’t obnoxious, privileged young adults from the suburbs of D.C. spewing their ill-informed political views then it was creepy old men harassing her all night in hopes of somehow luring her to their bed. How on earth did her parents find these types of events fun? Maybe she would have fun at these events if her parents bragged about her the way the Donohouges bragged about how their son, Collin, would soon be taking over the family business. Maybe she’d enjoy herself a tad bit more if her mother went on about all her accomplishments nonstop like Mrs. Schultz did about her daughter. Maybe she would have the tiniest bit of a good time if her parents would just say they’re proud of her.

God, she needed a drink.

The only thing that made it worth stuffing herself into an uncomfortable cocktail dress that irritated her porcelain skin and designer heels that made the arches of her feet ache was the booze at these types of affairs. Rich people had good booze and this celebration was no exception. The ever-flowing champagne flutes and open bar set in the corner of the large ballroom was her only saving grace this evening. Now, to navigate her way through the crowd without getting trapped into a conversation with the Cohens about how Duke would love to have her in their medical program or how Mr. Turner would love to introduce her to his eldest son. Bracing herself, Clarke adjusts the straps of her black dress and turns swiftly on her heels in the direction of the bar. She marches quickly and precisely through the crowd, dodging questions thrown at her from her parent’s nosy coworkers and blocking any wandering hands and ignoring all lust-filled glances from strangers that would love to say they slept with the Griffin’s only daughter.

Nearing her destination, she can see the bar and the myriad of glasses littering its top. She’s so close she can almost taste the alcohol on her lips and feel the familiar burn in her throat from the delicious liquid. She has almost found her way into one of the several stools sat around the bar when something – or rather, someone – catches her eye.

She’s tall with broad shoulders highlighted by the expensive white material of her dress shirt. The fitted material of her black pants hug her hips and give Clarke a lovely view of her toned backside. Her chestnut hair cascades down her back in intricate braids as she stands behind the bar, back turned to the blonde as her gaze flows over the vast amount of alcohol available for tonight’s event. Clarke slides into a stool as she watches one of the brunette’s strong forearms rise up to the top shelf. Long, sinewy fingers wrap around the neck of one of the many bottles. A soft aha slips past the brunette’s lips as she brings the bottle closer for inspection before turning around.

Cerulean blue eyes meet startled verdant.

If Clarke thought the woman was attractive from behind, she certainly wasn’t prepared for how gorgeous she was face to face. The brunette had strong cheekbones and a razor-sharp jawline. Perchance, Clarke’s favorite feature of the woman’s face so far was her pillowy lips that if you looked close enough, had a small singular freckle adorning the top lip. She was absolutely stunning and Clarke now needed that drink more than ever.

The taller of the two women cleared her throat; placing the bottle of what appeared to be cognac on the table before breaking the silence between them.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you there. What can I get you?”

Lightly shaking her head to clear her mind of her less than proper thoughts about the bartender Clarke responds, “I uh, I guess I’ll have what you’re having.” The blonde notices the slight twinge of the brunette’s lip as she tries to hide her smirk. She watches patiently as the woman nervously prepares the drinks. The timid shaking in her hands as she filled the crystal glasses pulled at the blonde’s heartstrings.  

“So, what brings you here?” the woman behind the bar asks as she slides the freshly made beverage carefully across the bar top into the seated woman’s hand. At this moment Clarke truly wishes she would’ve taken more time getting ready this evening seeing as though there was still remnants of paint underneath her fingernails from today’s earlier activities.

“To the gala or to the bar?” Clarke asks around the rim of her glass before taking a long drawl of the drink.

“Hmmm, both?” the tan woman asks tipping her drink in the blonde’s direction before taking a swig of the dark brew.

“Well, as for the gala, my parents dragged me here. But, the bar, that was all my own doing. I don’t know if I can listen to another person brag about the size of their yacht one more time without being shit faced.”

“I take it, this isn’t your kind of crowd.”

“No, not at all” the blonde chuckles; her words laced with bitterness.

“Are you telling me that pissing competitions don’t excite you?” the brunette asks jokingly. Her smile growing wider when the woman in front of her rolls her eyes and lets out an exaggerated scoff. The taller woman moves to rest her arms on the bar top as the shorter woman takes another sip of her beverage and tries to ignore the fluttering in her chest. The bartender drags her jade eyes up and down the blonde’s body admiring the generous amount of skin shown by the lowcut dress. The brunette had encountered many types of women this evening but none as intriguing as the one sat before her with beautiful golden locks, ocean blue eyes, and paint-stained hands.

“Well, if you don’t mind me asking, what does excite you?” the double meaning of the question is not missed by Clarke who is trying her hardest not to blush at the forwardness of the golden skinned woman. When her mother and father told her about this event tonight it was the absolute last thing she wanted to deal with. She had no desire to attend an event where she was looked down upon and shopped around to all the single bachelors. But now, sitting here, drink in hand, gazing into the warm emerald eyes across from her, she’s starting to not regret making an appearance at this event.

Clarke downs the rest of her drink loving the way it burns her throat in that familiar way before leaning her torso against the bar and muttering, “mmm, why don’t you come out from behind this bar and find out.”

She watches the wheels turn in the nameless woman’s head; contemplating whether or not to take Clarke up on her offer. Undoubtedly trying to decide whether or not she wanted to involve herself in the mess that is the young heiress. But, Clarke is a little tipsy thanks to the free-flowing alcohol at the party and now she’s horny so waiting isn’t an option for the young woman.

“I mean if you’re not up to it I’m sure one of these former frat boys will do.”

The statement flips a switch in the brunette. Whatever reservations she had about hooking up with a stranger at this gala are thrown to the wind. She licks her plump lips in anticipation of what’s to come once she rounds the bar. Thoughts of what she is planning to do to the blonde flood her head causing heat to pool in her stomach. Would she take her in the bathroom or a nearby closet? Maybe they could score a room somewhere in the extravagant hotel. Who knows but, if she doesn’t figure it out soon she might just take her on this very bartop, in front of the ballroom full of guests with prying eyes. Just when she’s about given up on thinking anything out fully she hears the last thing she was expecting.

“Alexandria! What are you doing behind there?” asks the recognizable voice of her mother. The sudden addition of third voice startles the blonde. She turns in the direction of the voice and feels her heart drop to her stomach.

There in all her pristine glory stands Indra Woods. Indra Woods who is the CEO of Woods Inc., the largest company in North America and soon to be the largest company in the world. Indra Woods, whose family has made their money in the oil business and technology and everything else in between. The Woods family is worth billions. The Woods net-worth makes Clarke’s family look penniless – a task most might believe to be impossible.

“Mother, what a surprise seeing you here,” the young brunette, now known as Alexandria, states with a cheeky smile. Her mother didn’t seem to find the scenario as amusing as her daughter.  

“Why are you playing bartender and more importantly why are you bothering this nice young woman?” asks the older ebony skinned woman with a warm smile on her face as she subtly addresses the blonde.

“Oh, no. She wasn’t bothering me, Ms. Woods. We were just chatting about the gala.”

“Please, call me Indra. I was speaking with your parents earlier and they said that you’re an artist, is that correct?” the older woman inquires while Clarke attempts to pay no mind to the green gaze currently pointed in her direction.

“That’s correct ma'am”

“That’s wonderful. We’re thinking of expanding the digital division of the company and we’re looking into recruiting some graphic designers. I’d love to see some of your work and perhaps offer you a job at the company.”

“Oh wow, wow. Um, yes! Yes, I’d love that. Thank you so much.” To say Clarke was shocked would be an understatement. She couldn’t help the smile that stretched across her face as she thought about the business woman’s proposition.

“How should I contact you?” asks the excited artist. The Woods matriarch smiles coyly before replying, “I’m sure Lexa can help you with that.” Casting a warning but, all together motherly glance at her daughter as a reminder to behave, Indra politely leaves the two women to continue on with their night.

“When were you gonna tell me you’re an artist?” Lexa asks when the blonde turns back to her. Clarke can’t help the laugh that escapes her lips at the absurdity of the question.

“Excuse me, when were you going to tell me that you’re a Woods? No, actually, when were you going to tell me you don’t work here?” the blonde asks feeling the weight of embarrassment settle on her shoulders as she thinks about how she just assumed the Woods heiress was a part of the waitstaff.

The brunette shrugs her shoulders as she smirks at the flustered woman before her. “I thought we were having fun.”

“I think you have a skewed view of what ‘fun’ is,” the blonde jokes.

“You might be right but, if you’re still looking for some excitement tonight,” Lexa replies, reaching into her pocket and producing a room key to one of the many lavish rooms in the 5-star hotel, “we could have some real fun.”

Clarke stares at the matte black key card perched between two tan fingers contemplating the offer before plucking the small object out of Lexa’s hand and whispering into her ear to grab the bottle of cognac they had previously been indulging in. They were gonna have some fun tonight.      


	2. Birthday AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clexa Birthday AU - since it was my birthday today (08/04/2018) and we reached over a 1000 followers, I figured I’d write a little drabble for you guys

Lexa made her way through the tower, the heavy pauldron on her shoulder weighing her down in more ways than one. She could feel the aching of her bones and muscles with each step she took. The day had been a long and strenuous one, between the constant bickering amongst the clans and the training session she’d participated in, it was miracle she was still standing upright. As she rounded the corner she could see the lazy, orange glow of candle light filtering out beneath the door to her room; calling for her to return to the safety and comfort found inside those walls.

Swinging open the heavy wooden door, she begins to make her way into the room, stripping herself of her multiple layers. Her items are strewn haphazardly around the room, her pauldron and coat landing somewhere near the door while her sword seems to find its way to a table the woman often uses when transcribing letters to different clan officials. Making her way further into the room she notices something lying at the base of her bed. She drifts ever closer and notices it’s a bouquet of white flowers. She recognizes them from one of the trading stalls in the center of Polis run by an elderly man — Leo, was his name if she remembered correctly. She reaches out to take the bouquet in her hands, the smoothness of the matte black paper surrounding the flowers tingles her senses. She lifts them to her nose to inhale the familiar heavenly scent when she hears the sound of footsteps behind her.

The brunette turns in the direction of the noise and cant help the ever-swelling feeling of love that begins to encompass her whole body at the sight of a smiling Clarke Griffin. She hadn’t seen her love since the early morning hours when she had left a soft kiss on the still sleeping blonde’s head before heading out to attend to her duties. 

Now, seeing her here before her, softly singing some song that must have belonged to the Skaikru and moving slowly towards the brunette with some kind of small pastry she must’ve also gotten on her trip to the city square, Lexa can’t help the grin that pulls at the corners of her mouth. Lexa studies her lover as she continues on her slow stride towards the commander, noting how she holds the pastry with a delicate hand while the other forms a protective barrier around it as to shield the tiny candle atop of the sweet from going out. The two soon find themselves face to face as the shorter woman finishes her strange song.

“Happy birthday dear Lexa, happy birthday to you. Make a wish, baby.” 

The brunette quirks an eyebrow at the silly antics of the beautiful creature before her, not entirely sure of whats being asked of her.

“Make a wish and blow the candle out,” Clarke supplies, urging Lexa to partake in the unfamiliar tradition. The brunette does as she is asked, blowing the small flame out before placing a tender kiss upon Clarke’s lips.

“Thank you, love but I do not understand what this all means.”

“Well, I decided to finally take a trip to the library in the tower today and I discovered these books — records really. They had all this stuff about past and present commanders written in them. Things like which clan they originated from, how old they were when they ascended…when they were born.” Her porcelain hand rises to cup one of the tan, angular cheeks before her, “Why didn’t you tell me today was your birthday? I know in prior years we were consumed with introducing Skaikru as the thirteenth clan and other distracting diplomatic things but we’re at peace now. Why not tell me?”

Lexa contemplates her answer, debating on whether on not to delve into the fact that she had never anticipated living this long, before settling on the simplest of answers, “It’s not something our people really celebrate.” The younger of the two was clearly not impressed with her answer if the rolling of her eyes was any indication. 

“If anyone deserves to celebrate it’s you. So, my first order as Wanheda and your wife is that we must celebrate now and every year after.” Lexa smiles at wife’s outlandish behavior.

“You were giving me orders long before you were my wife, Wanheda.”

“And don’t you forget it,” the blondes teases before asking her wife to take a seat and eat her treat so she can open her other gift.

“I thought the flowers were my gift.”

“They are but, you have one more so hurry up so you can open the other,” Clarke answer before taking her wife’s hand and leading her to the edge of the bed.

The women sit enjoying the small cake and each other’s company. The only sound in the room was the occasional giggle when one of them was caught staring at the other. At one point Lexa had committed a less than Commander-like action by smearing icing onto her wife’s button nose. Once they finished Clarke found herself eagerly asking if Lexa was ready for her next present. 

“Love, I don’t need anything else. This has already been the best birthday I have ever had.” The love and sincerity in her voice almost cause tears to prick at Clarke’s eyes but she powers through, telling her wife to hush and close her eyes. She throws a no peeking over her shoulder as she walks off to retrieve the mystery gift. She returns moments later, although to Lexa it felt like years. 

“Okay, open your eyes,” nervousness filling the younger woman’s voice as she waits for jade eyes to meet her cerulean ones again. When Lexa opens her eyes she’s met by the nervous presence of her wife as her small, smooth, un-calloused hands present her with the tiniest pair of fur boots she’d ever seen, topped off with a pastel yellow ribbon wrapped around them.

“Clarke, those won’t fit me,” she says in a soft, confused tone.

“I know,” Clarke replies with a glowing smile on her face.

“I am confused, I thought the gift was for me.”

“It is.”

“But they do not-”

“Lexa, I’m pregnant.”

And just like that Lexa’s world is spinning so fast that she feels as though she might just pass out. No amount of training as a natblida could have prepared her for this moment. Lexa had never been scared of anything in her life. She had rushed into countless battles, fought enemies twice her size, created the coalition and yet nothing, nothing, frightened her quite as much as the tiny shoes resting in her wife’s hands right now. But, at the same time, nothing excited her as much as the prospect of her and Clarke’s love manifesting into the form of their own child. Nothing set her soul on fire the way the idea of her wife’s stomach swelling as the child inside grew stronger every day. She’s so swept up in emotion she doesn’t even realize she’s left her seated position on the foot of the bed until she hears her wife let out a surprised squeal at sudden crushing hug she’s wrapped up into. Lexa can’t help but spin her wife around while placing a plethora of kisses all over her face.

“I am so happy,” Lexa manages to mumble into the shorter woman’s ear.

“You are?”

“Yes, this is by far the greatest birthday I have ever had.” 

Time passes as the two remain locked in their embrace, neither wanting this moment to come to an end. The sheer amount of love between the two — now, three of them is something so indescribable the only thing Clarke can think to say is, “What did you wish for?” 

“Nothing,” Lexa answers truthfully.

“Lexa! You were supposed to wish for something.” Lexa smiles at her wife once more before answering, “Why wish for anything when I have the whole world right here in my arms?”


End file.
